


The Passing

by dandelion_wishes



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, Anger, Fluff and Angst, Funeral, Grief/Mourning, Memories, Multi, Parent/Child relationship - Freeform, Self Medicating, Whiskey - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 22:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7124638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelion_wishes/pseuds/dandelion_wishes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will deals with the death of his father with a little help from his friend Hannibal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Passing

**Author's Note:**

> My Dad died a couple of weeks ago. Even though my desire to work on my other stories has waned a bit, I wanted to work through some issues. I thought Will was best suited to be my stand in for this. There is some heavy sorrow in this but fluff as well. I don't think I could bare this without some fluff from these two.

Will picks up his nearly empty whiskey glass taking a sip while he side eyes a photograph on the table.He slumps in the chair much like the man in the photo. Will sighs leaning his head back while bracing elbows on the armrest of the straight back chair. The photograph lays there waiting. It’s discolored with age. The colors have dulled and paper yellow. The edges are worn crumpled from harsh handling much like the profiler himself.

The subject of the photo is a small family. A nuclear family with the traditional man, woman, and child. The family sits outside in lawn chairs. The mother smiling holds a laughing cherub baby in her laugh. Her head has long waves of dark hair. Her eyes are hidden by dark sunglasses. She is slender wearing cropped pants and a white shirt. Any viewer would consider her pretty maybe even beautiful. The man sits close to the woman the babe’s pudgy toes touch his leg. His dark hair cut short. Eyes are hidden by glasses. He wears jeans and work boots with a madras plaid shirt. One hand is touching the baby’s back, and the other has a cigarette hanging down and away from the others. His smile is small with a small edge of teeth shown.

The baby has some dark ringlets around his head. His eyes are light in color. His smile is large from the laugh spreading from his eyes to his mouth. His cheeks are full and rosy from the sun. He wears a blue and white sailor sun suit. The moment fleeting but captured in its innocent. Will wonders if he could travel in time would he warn a young couple of what the future holds for them. Or would he let them live in this moment because not many more carefree days are theirs.

Will rub his head. Then he pours another drink from the half empty bottle.Will was never accused of being an optimist. He drinks half his glass before rubbing his eyes as tears escape onto his cheeks. He is angry at himself. Will always the intuitive empath always understands what killers think and why He knows the triggers but to experience a trigger that often leads a dormant serial killer to strike is eye opening. The death of a parent often sets off a killer. All the pent up emotions unleashed from past and present are like a tsunami. It obliterates your reality swallowing whole your every day for compulsive thoughts that drown you.

He laughs to himself it’s like a bill owed. You think you’ve paid that off but every so often another smaller bill surfaces. Something else owed that you pay again until one day the whole amount comes due.His time is here. All the thoughts, grievances, and emotions are here demanding attention. Will slams his glass down on the table.

Goddamnit, he thought he dealt with this ages ago.Well apparently, surprise motherfucker you ain’t.What’s to be done about that?

Will hears footsteps calm and steady creeping up behind him. The hairs rise on the back of the neck. His breath held. He stares at his hands laying palm down on the table on either side of the whiskey bottle. Then a flash of blue from his prereferral vision. Then the hue moves until Will looks up over the blue and red window check suit to the paisley tie of Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

The man ever calm and steady has his coat folded neatly over his arm. He tilts his silvery blonde to the side. His burgundy-hued eyes narrow and his check bones become sharper as his purses his lips studying his not patient before him. Will knows his a hot mess. He’s not bathed in three days or changed clothing since the call about his father’s passing. He is currently camped out in the kitchen with his umpteenth bottle of whiskey. The kitchen is not his first encampment. He has moved from room to room. His eyes are red and his beard a little fuller.

Will releases the breath he was holding and begins to giggle. A full blown laugh escapes his chest as he bangs the table.

“Ewwee! You scared the every living shit out of me Doc.!”

Will places his fist in front of his mouth as he rocks laughing in his chair. He clears his throat continuing.

“ Your footsteps sounded like my dad’s! I thought that son o bitch had come to haunt me!”

Will adds more whiskey to his glass sloshing the liquid onto the table. He takes his drink laughing a moment before downing all of it. Hannibal picks up the bottle then screws the lid onto it. He moves quietly to the kitchen picking up the trash can he throws away the bottle with extreme prejudice. He starts progressing through the kitchen toward the living room picking up bottles placing them into the bin.

Will watches the refined man before it hits him that he is here.

“Hey.How’d you get in? Kinda rude ain’t it?”

Hannibal places the bin down scratching behind one of the dog’s head.

” I have been calling and texting for two days. I knocked on your door for at least fifteen minutes before Winston pawed the door open for me. I assumed it was an invitation to enter.”

“Oh well, if Winston let you in it must be okay,” Will says scratching behind said dog’s ear.

Hannibal rises and continues his task. He doesn’t look at Will as he speaks with the intoxicated man. He thinks that Will is more willing to talk without the forced eye contact much like children are encouraged to speak to an adult about a difficult topic.

“You mentioned your father haunting you. I assume he has passed away. My condolences on your loss.”

Will snorts rubbing his eye underneath his glasses. He almost looks like a small child.

“Yes. Thank you. He did die. Sunday...night...I have to go down sometime this week and you know..” Will waves off handled in the air.

Hannibal rubs his fingertips together looking down at them with a displeased look on his face. It quickly passes to a neutral position.

“Are you not arranging or attending the service?”

“No..nope...nothing to organize. He had it all planned out and paid for….his neighbor Shelby called me...said He went peacefully. He wanted to be burned instead of planted...so..I guess I’ll pick him up..the memorial service is whenever I get there and speak to the Directer.”

“Did you know your father was ill?”

Hannibal moves the trash can back to its spot. He walks over pulling out a chair at the table. He faces Will his legs casually crossed hands folded in his lap. It could be just another day at the office for Dr. Lecter. Will rolls his eyes at his assumption that maybe Hannibal..no Dr. Lecter had come to check out of friendly concern. This visit is business as fucking usual.

“You seem upset with me. I’m sorry if I tread on to forbidden territory.”

“Naw that’s okay."

Will straightens up and slams the palm of his hand down on the table making his glass and photograph jump a little.He looks at Hannibal intently.

“You wanna have a session. By God, we’ll have a session. Will stands lifting his chair up before he turns it around slamming to the floor once more. He sits down facing his not therapist.

“Will this not necessary…”

Will puts up his hand interrupting the man.

“S fine. No problem! You gotta a job to do. I’m an unstable profiler gone off the radar for a few days. So let’s get it done shall we.! Hmm Yes...good..Skay..”

Will rocks a little side to side before clutching the arm rests.Then he stops grinning at Hannibal like he has accomplished something significant.

“K..Okay...I got this a little...spacey for a moment. Now where was I? Oh, yea..My father..”

Will places a hand on his chest as he takes a deep breath his eyes meeting an amused Lecter’s.

“Yes, I knew Dad was sick. I went down a few weeks ago to see him. We talked around everything like always. Then we sat in silence for a bit. I spoke with the hospice people. Dad has..I mean had...pancreatic cancer and lung cancer. Ignored the symptoms for several years before finally going to the doctor.After I came home apparently took a turn for the worse but didn’t wanna bother me...So no one called me.Nobody informed his only family..his only son..cause I don’t matter never did.”

“Was he alone when he passed?”

“No he had Shelby and her kid..tubby..tobby..toddy...fuck whatever his name is..there with hm. He probably preferred it that way.”

Will looks pointedly away from Hannibal. The doctor smells the weakness and distress of the younger man. Hannibal can't help himself. He has to poke the wound to see what Will Graham will do.

“Do you dislike Shelby or just her son?”

Will tugs in his ear lob grimacing then he squirms in his chair as though he was a child himself.Finally, he sighs before he speaks.

“She’s fine..He’s fine...I am..fuck...I sound like a jerk for even sounding this way..”

“You're jealous?”

Will stops squirming. He ducks his head before he nods curtly. His cheeks flush with embarrassment. He holds up his hand waves to and fro a couple of times.

“I know...I know..I sound childish. In my mind, I understand this is not Scott’s fault.”

“Scott?”

“Yea that’s the kid's name.”

Will looks at Hannibal as though he asking an idiotic question.

“Sorry, I thought it was Toddy.”

  
“What kind od dumb ass parent would name his kid Toddy? “   
Will shrugs then says, “Probably one who would name his son Hannibal suppose.”

Hannibal bristles for a moment. “Please continue about your jealousy over a child named Scott.”

Will stop gives Hannibal a “go fuck yourself look” which the doctor returns. Will suddenly smiles and huffs in amusement.

“Fuck, what was I saying again?”

“It’s not Scott’s fault.”

“Yes..I do understand that. The kid has wavy hair and blue eyes. He is gangly and lanky like I was all. All legs and elbows with no ass. Anyway..I understand that he is a substitution for the little me. I realize that Dad was making amends, though subconsciously, to me through this child. I get that. I do but..”

Will scrubs a hand down his face. He looks anywhere but at Hannibal.

“ I feel jealous.” he huffs a laugh.” I can’t fathom why because I understand. I am also angry at the old man but that I know why that lingers in my mind..heart.”

Will picks up the glass trying to swallow the dregs of whiskey. Nothing. He picks up the glass closing one eye viewing a distorted Hannibal from the bottom. He sighs placing it down. He wants to ask for more but intuitively doesn’t. There is no point.

Hannibal nods his head saying nothing. Will seems to be in the mood to wait for a reaction. The doctor turns his attention to the photograph. He motions toward it seeking permission. Will nods his head giving it. Hannibal lifts it up holding it reverently.

“This is you and your parents.” stating the obvious.

“What a beautiful child you were Will.”

Will shrugs looking morosely at the picture in the doctors hands.

“Is this the only picture you have of your mother.”

Will nods his head curtly. Before he can stop it, his lips tremble. He gets up quickly walking to bathroom mumbling an excuse me. Hannibal watches him leave before returning his full attention to the memory in his hand. He smiles as he touches the little Will in the photography. He memorizes the scene placing it within his memory palace for further scrutiny later.

Will stands in the bathroom looking at his reflection. He chastises himself for the slip in his guard. These memories are topics he avoids in therapy for a reason. Something that he doesn’t need to be picked apart by a stranger. But Hannibal isn’t a stranger is he? Will is too drunk for this right now. Self-reflection while intoxicated is just asking for a can of worms to be opened. He sighs opening the door turning out the light.

When he returns, he sees Hannibal has placed the photo on the table.

“When are you going to…?”

“Louisiana? Dad returned home after he retired. Thursday.”

“Would like someone to accompany you?”

Will looks at Hannibal with a perplexed expression on his face.

“Why?”

“For support and comfort Will. Someone to run interference when you are overwhelmed. Dare I say this situation will be that just that..very quickly I might add.”

Will sighs looking around for an answer. He huffs out an exasperated breath. He walks over to the table sitting down.

“Are you volunteering?”

“I am.”

For a few minutes, there is a Mexican standoff of silence. Neither man daring to break the delicate balance of grief and hesitation. The offer not an unusual one for most people sets Will’s nerves on edge. He knows however Hannibal is correct about this. Will can’t decide if he hates him for it or appreciates it.

“Why are you angry with your father?

“Damn, you're like a dog with a bone Hannibal!”

Hannibal smiles at the use of his first name. Will look out the window.

“It’s not just him I am angry with…”

“Your mother?”

“Obviously but more importantly myself.” The empath snips at Hannibal.

He sighs as he goes retrieving a glass in a cabinet. He fills it water from the pitcher in the refrigerator. He takes a drink looking out the window before he speaks again.

“I should have been there. I should have stayed. I should have visited more often. Called and written as well. I didn’t. I thought… Dad didn’t want a relationship with me. You can’t force someone into a relationship. But I knew… that this is or was his nature. Even though the phone works both ways, he hated speaking on the phone. He felt uncomfortable talking about his feelings. It didn't help..I..”

Will stops choked on the lump in his throat. He swallows it down when he goes to speak his voice wavers. He stops breathing out until he has control over his voice.

“When I was in college Dad started AA. He was working on the steps. He came to visit me. I think he was trying to make amends.”

“You are unsure.”

Will brushes some tears away.

“I shut him down. I was busy. His timing is for shit, as usual. He showed during finals week. I brushed him off. I felt justified for all the times he brushed me off as a kid.”

“Kids can only take so much rejection and neglect for so long before they close themselves off the offender.”

“I wasn’t kid. I knew what he wanted. Maybe things would have been different if I had listened.”

“Things may have been, true. However, they would have been different if your father had given you the attention you deserved and needed, as well. It is the parent’s duty to form that first bond. Without it, some people are slow to mature emotionally.”

“Are you saying I’m emotionally immature?”

“Somewhat. You are an old soul when you use your gift on other people. You understand them and their emotions. This maturity goes beyond years with insight that only someone with exceptional experience can use. With your feelings, you struggle to understand them… you can be somewhat child-like in your naivety. Rather endearing at times but it can be an obstacle in dealing with tumultuous emotions. You still view your father as you did when you were in his care. You can’t blame yourself for seeing your father like you did as a child, Will. We are never truly an adult when we are with or think about our parents.”

Will stares longer into the waning afternoon. He feels a heaviness in his bones. The profiler feels like he could sleep for months on end. It's emotional and mental exhaustion with a small amount of depression thrown in for good measure. He knows its normal and okay to be this way.Will wishes he could stop himself a pass from the guilt of not bearing up better under this burden. For fuck’s sake, he deals with death every day. This quiet end of life seems to make more waves than anything the Ripper has ever made Will feel. They are not in the same category by far, but the personal feelings and observations are still there.Instead of confiding in Hannibal, Will says instead.

“Do you need to make arrangments?”

Hannibal smiles.

* * *

 

Will sits in the small chapel looking at a small box with a picture of his father smiling. A full toothy smile, that Will can hardly remember seeing. His memories skewed on that point he admits. It just seems that way. His eyes slide to Shelby and her son Scott. The boy looks about ten. He gained a few inches and weight as he enters into puberty soon.The boy’s hair neatly cut and combed. He’s in his Sunday best that brings out the blue of his eyes. Scott stands straight looks everyone in the eye. He is confident and well mannered. No wonder his father took a shine to him. He’s everything he wanted Will to be. Will wishes he could have given his father that but he could not. You can only give what you have to offer. What lays deep within you.

Will’s eyes look back at the few flowers that are around the ashes.Work had sent a modest arrangement with the condolences of the FBI. It warmed Will’s heart because he had no one there who cared about Will. Well except Dr. Lecter of course. His eyes stray back to the cherry wood box. It’s amazing a person can be reduced down to a medium size box. Will’s father could never see the sense of burying money in the ground. That’s what he saw burial with coffins and flowers as planting money into the ground. Waste that the ones left behind could use.

Will roll his shoulders.They feel tight. Hannibal is speaking with the few that attended the service. Will felt the preacher was too impersonal and too interested in selling Jesus’s salvation then talking about his Dad. They few who shared memories were good. They knew his father better, but he was surprised how many of them knew Will on sight. They told him his father was proud of him. He always had a picture of him. His father was not sure exactly what Will did, but he knew it was important.

The grief and anger rose to the brim with these words meant to be of comfort. The darkness inside him bristles and growls at the everyone there. It was to dig into flesh and bite away those ideas people mistakenly had about his father. They didn't know him like he did.Will realizes he knows one side of his dad. People are always more than what they seem. His grief overtakes the anger rendering it quiet for the moment. The sadness isn’t over the loss of his Dad. Will is sad his only family is gone, of course.

No, the sadness is for all the wasted potential of what could have been. What they could have been to each other. That Will will never know the funny, generous man that people spoke of at the podium. That all the times together they longed for peace so much so they never said what needed to e said. Like, Will hated his father for all the years of moving and stony silence. That Will also loved him and treasured the few memories of the times they did spend together. Will just wanted to be with his father when he was younger.That was all he desired until he was a teenager. Then he relished cherished his independence and freedom from nagging parents and chores. His few friendly acquaintances envied that Will’s father, hardly around, allowed him to do whatever whenever. Will envy the care and concern the other teenagers complained about, it’s always greener ain’t it?

Will sighs.He feels a hand slide across his shoulders rubbing the tense out. He relaxes into Hannibal’s touch.

“Are you ready to leave?”

Will nods.

“The director wants to know where to send the flowers as well as the picture and box. They have to seal the box but will deliver it to whatever destination you want.”

Will look at what there is before speaking. He looks at Shelby and her son. The boy is watching Will carefully. He has the urge to stick his tongue out at the youth but resists the temptation.

“Um...the flowers from work and the box can be sent to our hotel. Give the big flower arrangement to Shelby there. The rest send to the hospital or nursing home to give to someone who never receives anything. The picture...give that to Scott. I think he’ll want it. I’ve got photos at home.”

Hannibal nods before heading off to the director to give direction. Will hears the sound of the seat beside him creak for a moment. Will side glances at the boy Scott. The youth twists his hands together biting his lip. Will feels his nervousness. He waits.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Will look at the youth.The boy blinks.

“Your Will right?”

“Sure am.”

“You don't look much like Dedaddy John.”

Will rub his neck. Then he smiles a little.

“I think I took after my Mom, suppose.”

“But you move and talk like him.”

Will raises an eyebrow. Then shrugs.

Scott giggles.Will tilt his head.

“I loved it when he did that. The eyebrow and the shrug.”

“Me too.”

“You work with the FBI? You teach and something else?”

Will is surprised it must show on his face.

“Dedaddy John was always telling me I was smart like you. I needed to go to college and do something to help people.”

“Well, I um...teach about criminal profiling and consult in cases as a profiler.”

“Cool like _Criminal Minds_?!”

“Sorta...Tv can be a little misleading.”

“Oh, I know. But still..”

They sit in silence for a moment.

“Dedaddy John was going to teach me how to make fly fishing lures. We had the kit and everything.”

The boy looks down with such disappointment and sadness that Will can’t stand it. He rolls mental eyes at himself.

“Would you like me to show you how before I go back?”

“Really?!” the boy’s face brightened.

Will nod his head. One of the staff members brings the picture of his father handing it to Scott. The boy tries to hand the photo frame to Will. He holds up his hand to stop the kid.He nods his head gesturing for Scott to keep it. Suddenly, Will finds himself in engulfed in a hug. He stiffens but relaxes to return the hug. Shelby steps forward smiling as she strokes her son’s head that is latched on to Will. Will nods and gives a small smile. They converse for a moment arranging when Will could stop by the show Scott about the lures. She carefully guides Scott away from Will out of the door. Will is watching them.

“That was a very kind thing you did for Scott and hi mother.”

Will jumps turning around giving Hannibal an annoyed look.

“I’m going to have to put a bell on you or what? Quit sneaking up on me.”

“I apologize, William.”

Will roll his eyes.

“I need a drink or two.”

“I am sure you do. Shall we?”

Hannibal gestures to the door. They exit the building into the bright sunlight squinting their eyes as they adjust. Will doesn’t look back at the chapel. Nothing much comes from looking backward. He can only move forwards from now on.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
